


and all that glitters is not gold.

by snowangels



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Daddy Issues, Drabble, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, Romance, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-20
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-05-25 22:16:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14986742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowangels/pseuds/snowangels
Summary: jungwoo wants that person to be yukhei.





	and all that glitters is not gold.

**Author's Note:**

> hi hi this is a re-vamped and slightly edited version of my jinhwan and junhoe drabble so uh enjoy?? ^^

The constant feeling to wash and wash stays with him throughout the day, starting from when he wakes up to when he falls asleep at night. His hands feel gross and contaminated once he touches anything that's ‘dirty’, he shakes and he feels tears when he has to wait to use the sink, the feeling of wanting to throw up rising in his chest every single time. It's like a roller coaster, anxiety bubbling up everytime he touches something ' _dirty_ ', something that will make his hands feel gross and wrong , make him feel gross and wrong. Even though it harms him, makes his hands dry and nasty rashes break out on them, he continues to wash and wash. Washes the ointments off five minutes after putting them on because it feels wrong on his hands, and as he looks down at them, he feels shame and he tells himself that he isn't normal. But, the yelling that tells him to wash as it creeps up with heavy anxiety feels much worse to him.

 

And even if it's not the constant feeling of needing to wash his hands even though he did five minutes ago, it's the thought in his mind that is screaming at him to flick the light switch on and off, on and off, on and off, _on and off_ . He constantly hears something within himself that tells him to check if the door is locked, check if the oven is turned off, check the tv is on an even volume. When he does look, does check, because if not he'll get this sickening feeling of everything being wrong , he'll have to do it an even amount of times, never odd. Because if it's odd, it'll never feel right, and there will always be a off feeling in the back of his mind, in the pits of his stomach, and in the shake of his hands.

 

Nothing ever feels completely right, though. When he speaks at night to his mother on the telephone, he'll have to say goodnight four times, because the first one never feels like it's enough. It's always goodnight, goodnight, goodnight, goodnight . And even though it feels like there is something wrong with him, his mother never tells him he's weird or strange. She makes sure to make him feel as normal as she can, and he appreciates the effort.

 

(Because it's not just to make sure he feels normal due to his disorder, but to make him feel normal due to his past. With a father who left them at seven and moved down to street to his new found wife, he could never feel normal in the first place. He feels like he wasn't good enough, he was unwanted. Especially when he didn't see his father for two years even when he lived five minutes away, when his father ran away from him in public, when his father couldn't care for his own child but others instead. He felt stupid when he cried fourteen years after it all, but he couldn't help the tears that fell when he thought about the many things his father did to him.)

 

She even makes sure he feels somewhat normal when he has to have a cup sitting in the right place, never closer to the sink but always closer to the toaster. Everything has to be arranged and placed exactly where he wants it to be, or else he'll get upset, and anxiety will rise up to create knots in his stomach and lumps in his throat. Everything has to be in order, perfect, exactly how he wants it . And she even tells him it's okay if he gets a violent thought ( _how would it feel if you stabbed a knife through your stomach, what would it look like if that person got ran over by that car_ ) because it all comes with the package of his illness.

 

This is all he feels and knows, friends only with the thoughts in his mind that make him stick to the anxiety that comes with ignoring a compulsion, makes him push to do that certain compulsion. Loneliness and emptiness claws at him whenever possible, reminding him that he can't have friends because when they touch him he feels gross, when he does a compulsion they judge him, that he takes up too much of their time. But all that he wants is a friend (a lover, even) that would tell him that he's okay, everything is okay, that even if all he sees is dirty and all he hears is loud, that it's okay.

 

He wants that person to be Yukhei, who is all full of big laughs and annoyance, but is perfect all the same. He remembers meeting him the first time behind an ice cream shops counter, the one he works at. His hands were shaking even though he wasn't touching anything, and he was barely able to mumble out his order to the man with the big smile. His hands shook as he handed him the money, making sure to hold it by the very ends in caution of accidentally touching the other man's hand.

 

And he didn't even notice Yukhei staring at him as he ate the ice cream from a (foreign) bowl, nor when he threw it away and drenched his hands in the hand sanitizer from his bag. He only noticed the second time he went there, and only asked why the third time. Yukhei's number was written onto a worn piece of paper by then, like it had been written a while ago in preparation. A blush of embarrassment spread across both of their faces at the time.

 

After that, they texted for hours on end. Exchanging names the first time they texted ('I'm Jungwoo', 'Yukhei', 'I've never heard that name before', 'It's because I'm from Hong Kong') that soon evolved into talking about their days and their interests. And when Yukhei asked him why he always put hand-sanitizer on, why he made sure to never touch anything after he did, why he sometimes came to the shop with gloves on to avoid the pain of it, Jungwoo felt comfortable enough to tell him. He had O.C.D , and though he was expecting Yukhei to find him weird and odd, too much time and too much work, he didn't.

 

Texting turned into meeting in person, talking at a table with two seperate ice creams when Yukhei was on break, walking down the street so that Yukhei could make sure Jungwoo got home alright. It started from having a fond, content feeling in his heart everytime Jungwoo saw the younger boy, into a silence and cleanliness in his mind. His heart felt so full when he talked to Yukhei, was around him, close (but not too close) to him. He realized only after a night of watching movies with the other man that he was in love. Something so new and foreign, yet there it was, snuggled right into the parts of him that screamed at him to wash, check, arrange, repeat.

 

And the best part was that, Yukhei didn't seem to mind that his illness was apart of him, instead seeming to love when he said goodbye four times (sometimes eight) in a row. He never said anything to him when he washed his hands after touching his remote, or when he moved Yukhei's cup to a different spot because it just didn't feel right in its previous position. Yukhei didn't judge him, and instead treated him like a normal person, and maybe that's why he was so in love with him. Along with his big smile, his stupid jokes, his warm and positive energy that vibrated off into the rooms that he walked into.

 

So maybe it wasn't such a surprise when he asked Yukhei if he could kiss him. Yukhei had always been hesitant with touching him, had only touched him once or twice when Jungwoo said it was okay (the second time, the yelling that told him to wash his hands was quieter). It was obvious the younger was shocked, scared even, but Jungwoo took his face into his small hands (that shook, so much) and kissed him. It didn't make him feel gross, it didn't make him want to wash his mouth over and over, but instead made his heart beat extra fast, made his body go calm and relaxed and his mind find itself stuck on one thought, Yukhei. The way Yukhei felt, how warm he was against him, the way he kissed him back after five seconds of a shock and probably wanting to make sure that Jungwoo was okay with it.

 

And Jungwoo felt so happy and so blissful that he cried and worried Yukhei, but he made sure to explain after he calmed down. Made sure to tell him that he was okay, that Yukhei felt so right to him, that nothing was telling him to go, now, wash your hands and scrub your mouth.

 

Even though he washed his hands the next few times they held hands, or brushed his teeth a few times after they kissed, he always made sure to tell Yukhei that he was getting better, that he was pushing himself, going to therapy, and that he wanted to touch and kiss Yukhei. Because even if there was a little bug of anxiety crawling around underneath his skin, it still felt right to be close to Yukhei. The way his bigger hand grasped his smaller one, the way Yukhei would hold him while they watched a movie, the way he would pick him up and spin him around if he was excited or just simply wanting to feel close and happy with the older, or the way he smiled so brightly with a soft cooing when Jungwoo showed a bit of aegyo and cuteness, it all felt right.

 

Yukhei made Jungwoo feel clean and made everything quiet, even if it was only for a few seconds. Yukhei made Jungwoo feel so many things, and Jungwoo could always make out one thing in his cloud of loud, overwhelming thoughts.

 

That he loved him. _He loved him_.

**Author's Note:**

> this was heavily inspired by my own ocd, hence the vent fic tag.  
> leave some comments and kudos i guess pls?? hope you have a good day!! ^^ ♡


End file.
